


Memory - Sins of the father

by TK_29



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternative Perspective, Angst, Flashback, Origin Story, Storytelling, The Old Monster of the Ruins, Tomr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 14:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20640764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TK_29/pseuds/TK_29
Summary: A truth withheld for too long. Recovering from the brink of his death, Honoré reveals to her Princess-turned-Queen Toriel the events that transpired to her and her father following the untimely death of her other father Jean Bonheau.





	Memory - Sins of the father

**Author's Note:**

> Done as an art trade with KnKing on tumblr, from his Undertale AU "The Old Monster of the Ruins". This isn't a very long one, but again, any typos and general oddities can be addressed discreetly to me in the comments. Thank you for reading!

“My mind was consumed… I trekked down an overwhelming current of torment. Beset on all sides by shrieks of desperation that dotted that murky stream of dark molasses known to some men, and monsters, as the “Styx”: the river that crosses the very depths of hell. It is only fitting that a murderer should see such cruel torture… However, way back in the darkest recesses of my mind my love… All I desired was a lonesome reclusion, but that delight eluded me like a spry fox on the run… A wish unfulfillable, an endless path of dread lay before me.”

His voice was monotone, a stark contrast to the prosaic and verbose manner in which he conducted his story. Beside him a figure sat motionless, listening intently to every detail of the tale.

“It’d only been a short time since my treacherous crime.” he continued. “But beneath my feet I’d trodden several miles. Relentless pace, an animal on the run. I had nowhere to run, much less a place to hide.” He paused, swallowing a dry throat. “I’d burrow into the very earth for all eternity if I could! I’d dig my way down to that cradle of fire which I deserved but…” His hand reached for that which was beside him. “But you were there…”

A faint hum filled the dimly-lit room, in a corner a blue lamp bathed the figures in a somber blue shadow, a fitting mood for the story told. Sheets still covered the lower half of the wounded storyteller.

“The embers of dusk had turned into the mellow shades of twilight. I can still see it now… The meadows and woods bathed in a melancholic orange. I peered over my shoulder and frightfully searched for silhouettes in the shadows. But the crying and howling was not that of my pursuers… In reality it was a cacophonous mix of the disoriented and scared vocalizing of a child, and those tears of my own.”

“...” The figure remained silent.

“His… His dust still clung to my fur, staining it a dull grey. But, there you were my love, mixed with his remains…” He trailed off, a glint of emotion seeping through his voice. “...of my lover. New life, the spark of hope that’d fuelled me to soldier on through breathless dashing and maddened fear…”

“Dad…” the figure whispered, in a vain attempt to also contain its sorrow.

The hand beside the storyteller’s grasped it tightly, a faint tremble could be sensed in the otherwise firm grip. Still under the mellow blue umbra of the room, the grief-stricken listener dared not to utter any more words. She merely kept on listening, doing her best to maintain composure.

Simultaneously, the older, taller figure whose story was being retold was himself beginning to feel the effects of the weight unladen from his shoulders.

“You were such a small bundle of meat and fur then…” - he betrayed a snicker - “A caricature of a monster, innocently nibbling away on the fabric which I’d covered you in. Your little nostrils were pink from all the crying… And your ears…” a weak laugh escaped his lungs, it was more akin to a cough. “You clutched them with those tiny paws of yours…”

“What happened next?” She interrogated, a dry assertive voice façading her true feelings.

“Toriel… I… For tonight I believe I’ve told you-”

“Dad. Please… I-I need...” The tremble in her voice became ever more perceptible.

For the first time in what had been a nearly three and a half hour long conversation, the ex-monarch worked up the courage to face his own offspring, the tense muscles in his neck refusing to budge as he painfully craned his head around to look at the newly-crowned Queen in her own eyes.

The sight he observed was pitiful, though Toriel strove to maintain the cool and collected demeanor for which she was known it was plain to see the stricken grief in her eyes. The dim blue light refracted off beads of tears that formed on the corners of her scleras, her lips were sealed tight in an earnest attempt to maintain a straight face, but they quivered and shook…

“...Twilight became night as I held you tightly. I was sitting down next to an old tree trunk under the canopy, trying to muster some energy.” he continued, trying his best to pry the most eloquent and posh words of his vernacular. 

This was a ploy, of course. The more time he spent procuring smart-sounding words, pumping up his story, the less time he spent mentally involved in it. It was his last line of defense, his only shield against himself.

“...I’d not realized yet, but, one of the reasons you wept so profusely was due to my own affliction. Even at a such a young age, you… You were already special. My despair, my fear, it affected you. So, you cried. And cried, and cried… I…” he paused, cleaning his throat. “I pleaded to you, ‘Please, Toriel… I’m sorry, please! Please hush!’ but it did no good....”

“...” She stood like a statue.

“...I was 17. You were not 2 days old… How could I possibly cope with raising you? Me, a murderer.”

“Don’t use that word, dad.”

\--

Outside, just beyond the shut door, the King listened somberly to a story he’d heard before, but the weight of it now was tenfold. Arms crossed he hung his head low as the muffled beats of the tale played on. Honoré had that “serious talk” voice that always preceded an emotional breakdown, and Toriel… He’d never heard her so… Quiet, as silly as that may sound. He pretended not to notice Ömen standing beside him with an air of mixed worry and nosy curiosity.

“It’s been freakin’ hours. Is it that bad?” he whispered.

“...Yeah, it is.” Asgore muttered back.

“...Can I listen-”

“No.”

The bear leaned over past Asgore to look at the door beside him, like that was gonna do any good in helping him figure out what was being said. He knew it was pretty serious business if Honoré went on for that long. Even for a King, or rather, an ex-King, he usually was pretty clear-spoken and direct, not one to linger on technicalities like a pedantic old scholar.

All the more reason to ponder what was being spoken, Ömen’d always been one for a certain streak of morbid curiosity even in spite of his own heavy luggage of burden.

“Just for a little bit? C’mon.” he pried.

“I said no.” Asgore sliced the air with his words.

“Don’t be such a hardass, royal boy, come on.”

“Ömen.” Asgore straightened out to face him. “Answer me something very simple, yes?”

“Alright.”

“If someone ever just… Snooped in on you telling me something personal, or vice-versa, what would you do?”

“Well, I’d probably beat the shit out of them.” he snapped right at Asgore, sudden realization dawning on him. Ah… Right.

Asgore feigned a chuckle, and continued “So you do understand. The truth is… I know the story Honoré’s telling Toriel, and it is not a pretty one.” Asgore’d started to lead both of them down the corridor, towards the kitchen. Not that they were hungry, but anywhere away from that room would be better for Ömen, and definitely better for him. “Maybe, someday she will have the strenght to tell you and Shaa what this was all about, but right now is not the time. So I kindly ask you brother, please, leave her alone. She will need a long time to digest the things her dad is telling her.”

The authority in which he spoke to Ömen was strange even to the large grizzly. It’d only been so long since the whole royal thing had unfolded, all was still fresh and new to him. But the changes to Asgore seemed to take root very quickly. At heart, he was still a soft child with a heart of gold, but a streak of responsibility and duty shone through.

“Okay, brother. I’ll keep my distance.” the grizzly replied.

“Besides, don’t you have a Koala to be chasing after instead of listening to my Queen’s secrets?” Asgore jabbed at him.

“... Fuck you.” Ömen snorted.

In a sense, Asgore shared an odd sentiment towards his other half at that moment: envy. He envied that Honoré was the one to tell her these things, and not some unrelated third party. A wave of guilt splashed at the banks of his mind, before retreating back into the murky origins of its waters of memories past. At least, he thought, she’d finally know what happened to her parents.

That was a luxury Asgore would likely never afford.

\--

“By then it was past midnight, and you still cried… My temper had calmed sufficiently by then, but my worry did not. I knew you were hungry, it’d been hours since your last meal… I needed to take you somewhere safe, somewhere with food. But I knew, if I came to a monster enclave cradling a half-temmie in my arms… We were both as good as dead.”

The blue lamp had long burned out its essence, being replaced by a purple one, which once more cast a somber shadow more pronounced than the light it shone. The stillness of the air was such that every word uttered still rung like a church bell.

“I did not know what to feed you on my own. I tried… I tried grass, of all things! I was so irrationally driven I so much as offered some dry bark to you, but of course, you shook and tumbled in my arms in protest. The little rainwater that’d accumulated on some bushes and leaves was insufficient. I’d have to trek further…”

“...”

“I chose to try my chance with the humans. My hope was that I’d be able to scare them into giving me that which I desired. A desperate choice, but I was out of options. If it was only up to me… I’d just laid there and awaited death. Naught was left for me… A vagrant, a delinquent, a ne’er-do-well, a mur… A m-mur-” his voice faltered.

“Dad.” Toriel whispered.

“My love… My throat is mighty dry. Would you mind… Getting me some water?”

It was a few moments before, without a word, Toriel simply rose to her feet and strode to the door, unceremoniously opening it and idly wading her way to the kitchen. She walked past the entire ensemble that lived in her house, Asgore, Sofia, Shaa, Ömen... They simply stood in awe as she served herself a generous glass and as suddenly and silently as she’d appeared, she once more vanished into the dark chambre.

“I meandered out of the forest under the full moon, your whimpers had subsided somewhat, but you’d still flare up every ten or so turns of the hourglass… That’s when I saw it, a small fishing hamlet lodged between an old quarry and this shallow freshwater river. I forgot the name of that village by then, but… I knew it to be human, I hoped to be able to steal some fish from them… Heh…” he snickered “A vagrant and a thief…”

“...”

Slowly, but surely, a picture was painted in Toriel’s mind. The conflicting feelings that swarmed her soul proved a challenge to face. She had to concentrate her entire being into the words of her father. She wanted to know, she needed to know. Soon enough, it didn’t seem like Honoré was talking, she saw herself immersed in the story of his foley. She was herself following in his footsteps all those years ago...

\--

The burlap sack that wrapped around the fugitive boss monster blended well with the tall-brush foliage of the marshy river water. Aided by the mildly quiet sloshing of the current, he cleared a path with one hand whilst another held Toriel as close to his chest as physically possible. Progress was slow and arduous, every ten or so feet, he needed to rest and calm Toriel’s senses as adequately as he knew how to - which was not very adequately.

Just some twenty or so feet beyond, lay the muddy path from the makeshift wharf to a butcher’s gleaming cleaver. A mistake here would cost him dearly, so he waded in a very deliberate and meticulous manner. Bags formed under his eyes, he’d been awake for well over twenty hours now. It might as well have been twenty years, or twenty eons.

“Shhh… Toriel. We’ll eat soon I promise.” he comforted the distressed baby.

Besides a canoe haphazardly fastened to the wooden docks lay a net half-full with fresh catch. Mostly some second-grade fish. Smallmouth bass, pikes, walleyes… No matter, food was food, beggars can’t be choosers. The tide was high enough that part of the net touched the water and loosened some of the fish inside, some still splashing about.

Unshaken was the thought of what he’d become - a thief. Such a lowly aspiration for a young man of his caliber, a fall from grace no doubt but… Bah! Asunder with these thoughts! He had no time. Muffled chatter beyond in the hamlet drew his attention, it was distant and uncaring. His eyes betrayed a small shimmer through the tall grass, as his hand reached beyond to the scaly dinner at hand… 

Toriel wailed once more, his hand hesitated. He peered down at her and saw eyes clenched shut in fear. Once more he saw himself in his daughter. Suddenly, a loud thump. He shot his eyes back at the fresh catch close at hand, but beside it was a curled wooden cane and a pair of staunch leather boots.

“Just what do you think you are doing?” the voice was young, but assertive.

He dared not reply, sliding his look up the legs of the man to sheepishly meet his gaze. Not older than thirty, this man bore no clear sign of battle weariness or calloused age, but yet his voice commanded like that of a warden. A wide-brimmed hat drenched his eyes in the shadow of the moonlit night.

“...” Honoré simply stood paralyzed, a scared animal.

“So?” the man pried.

“...Please let me go in peace. I won’t return.” he recoiled his hand, now cradling Toriel with both his limbs.

But the figure stood unmoving. Not reaching for a sword, or horn, or bell… Simple stillness, robes wafting in the cool night wind… As he stood there, Toriel grumbled a few babbling sounds, and tumbled around. Honoré's heart raced… he'd heard what certain groups of humans did with newborn monsters. The thought petrified him, as the man clearly noticed the presence of Toriel in his arms. His blood ran colder than arctic waters.

Their standoff went on its silent state for a short while, before once more the human broke the silence. He tapped his cane once more on the wooden docks.

“Come with me.” again, his voice commanded an authority unfitting of his physique.

Taking a few steps back, he positioned himself on the muddy banks of the marsh, still facing the scared father-daughter duo hidden in foliage. With some difficulty, Honoré scaled the banks but poised himself at the ready to escape. As the mysterious human “captor” led him up the path, it was not long until they were well inside the hamlet’s sparsely-populated grounds, pacing at a relaxed pace.

As they walked, Honoré counted all the humans he could see out of the corner of his eyes, some fifteen to eighteen of them… Though… They all shared a common factor to his captor. Hard to describe, but an air of uncanniness enveloped them. Smiths and merchants, shoemakers and troubadours, all quietly observing their promenade between the log cabins. Their looks were more of interest than bewilderment. Eerie silence was hanging in the air.

Toriel’s weeping had ceased, and she’d now been quiet for longer than ever before. A sense of calm was present around the boss monster’s carapace of weary apprehension. Something was not right here. All the more reason to be alert.

Soon enough they arrived at one of the many log cabins that made up the little town, the robed man swung the door open and paced into the dark, but the monster hesitated at the doorway. Being in a tight, confined space with a human could not possibly end well, poised to run away he took a step back. The figure stood in the dark, beckoning.

“I am not what you think I am.” the human said.

“How can I trust you?”

“Do you have a choice?”

Obviously he did not, but even still he searched for ways out of this possible trap. At the very least, he readied himself for a fight he had no chance of winning, there would be hell and a half to pay if one of them even so much dared touch Toriel. He finally replied.

"No."

He walked into the dark chamber, the human standing at the far end of the pitch-black room. The door was still open a crack in need of a speedy getaway. The man noticed this.

“Close it.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

A deep breath. So… It would come down to a fight. As he slowly closed the creaky wooden door he tried as best he could to make his peace with the cosmos. Jean was dead, he would soon be dead, and Toriel was sure to follow. Maybe he deserved such a fate, but Toriel… She had not even the opportunity to taste the joys of life, the comfort of a home, the pleasure of safety, the warmth of love…

“I’m sorry Tori…” he thought to himself.

Click. The room was now closed to the outside, and to any escape. White-furred hand still on the handle, an otherworldly light flashed from behind him and like thunder the darkness became light for an instant, such display could only stem from something beyond the physical... ‘Impossible!’ He thought, as his own hand was engulfed in the neon purple plasma of conjured flame. 

“Stay back!” A piercing holler, embers filling the air. He swirled around to meet his foe, still holding his daughter close to heart, but saw no man, only the empty room which now shone with the hue of his flame. Toriel began crying once more.

“Down here.” a meaker voice poked him.

At his feet, beneath a small pile of the human’s clothes was a sight that simultaneously struck him with dread and wonderment. It was no man, nor child, but a Temmie. The flame lingered on, however, and he still poised himself to run. ‘Not again’ he thought…

The images flashed in his mind, the flames, the terror, the blood… The dust that still clung to his arms stung the skin under his fur… A scared child.

“A boss monster being terrified of a Temmie is a first for me, I gotta tell you.” he said, hopping awkwardly from the floor to a chair, flicking a lantern on with a handy miniature-sized flint and steel lighter. Both of their features were revealed more clearly now, especially Honoré’s petrification.

“...”

“The other villagers are Temmies as well, we all are. This is not a human village, despite what both sides may think.” he said, hopping onto a desk beside Honoré to speak more eye-to-eye with him.

“...”

“I saw the ears on the child you grasp. It was the only thing that kept me from shooing you away earlier... What’s her name?” he said, eying the small white-furred bean as it suckled on the aforementioned ears.

The flame flickered and faded, as he brought his hand once more to cradle Toriel, whose stupor had calmed and at once returned to the uncaring innocence of a newborn… He stroked her flush cheeks with a thumb, his hand big enough to engulf the baby whole.

“My daughter… Her name is-”

“Not her - your wife.” the Temmie interrupted.

He rose his eyes again, to meet his patron’s own. In one way or another, all Temmies looked fairly alike, and Jean was no exception. In a way, it was as if he’d already perished and ended up in some sort of wicked purgatory, having to answer to Jean himself for his crimes… He’d hoped he’d forgive him.

“My husband.” he corrected “What does it matter, anyway? He’s dead.”

The expression on the shapeshifting cat changed from that of inquisitiveness to that of understanding and sorrow.

“I am very sorry to hear that… May the winds reunite him with our brethren in the upper world.” he lowered his head.

“So be it.” he replied to the ceremonial plea.

“As you can imagine, there are not a whole lot of us remaining, that is why I asked you her - pardon me - his name… Many of our kin go missing or die outside our reach. We know not of their fate, that is why we hold every name close to our heart in hopes of news. Clearly you carry the news of a deceased… Now, if I may ask again, what was his name?”

“Jean… Jean Bonheau.” Honoré whispered, easing himself down onto a chair next to his patron.

The Temmie’s eyes flared with surprise, followed by a bittersweet smile.

“Jean… He was a pure soul, robbed of his innocence. I’ve not heard of him for over nine years.”

“I… I apologize… But I-” Honoré stammered.

“No need, you were not the hand that slayed him. Your grief is shared by all of us here in the Temmie Village.” those words cut like a dagger. If only he knew…

“My gratitude cannot be expressed in words…”

The Temmie stood up on his four legs, and walked closer to Toriel, observing attently as she herself caught eye of the pseudo-cat monster. Flaring a smile for the first time in her short existence. During the first days of her life she’d barely opened her eyes to anything, light still too strong for her sensitive eyes…

She’d never seen Jean… And never would.

“She hungers, I do not know what to do. Please, help me.”

“We shall teach you all we know, mister…”

“...Honoré, and... she’s Toriel.”

“A beautiful name, Honoré. I’m Manh Djoul.”

\--

Toriel opened her eyes. The visions were clean and crystalline, all seemed to have unfolded before her own eyes. She felt the panic in her father, saw herself through his eyes and shared his deepest thoughts with him… She saw his face. Or at least she thought she did. Honoré continued.

“Djoul taught me how to concoct the elixir to calm your senses, he taught me songs and spells to entertain you, he gave us shelter for the better part of two and a half weeks... I accumulated with him a debt I could not possibly repay within my lifetime. The only reason you are alive and well, is because all those years ago the Temmies took me in as one of their own, for essentially, you were one of them.” his monotone had now developed into his usual voice, emotion swelled in each word spoken.

“...” Toriel listened.

“They all assumed the form of humans not to protect themselves from our enemies, but… To protect them from us. We were their bane much more than humans were. To them, Temmies were just another kind of monster, but to our kind… Well, you know full well how our familiars see Temmies.” he cleared his throat. “Disguised as humans they could live in peace, away from us and them… But I promised to change that, to give them a place where they could take their true form without fear… Without shame. I owed this to them.”

“...”

“That is why the Temmie Village exists today, here in the underground. I ask of you, for the sake of… For Jean, my love. Please help Asgore keep them safe for as long as you live. Then teach your children what I taught you, that they may teach their children’s children. For Jean, Tori.”

Toriel did not reply, she simply met her father’s gaze with violet eyes. Her lips quivered no more, neither her hands shook. Silence engulfed the room, as now the violet lamp too flickered and faded. With serene intent she leaned over and tenderly embraced her still-emaciated father. 

“I promise, dad. I will…” she whispered.

It was well into the night, their heart to heart having taken over eight hours. All had returned to their chambers and were sound asleep, all except for Toriel and Asgore who, despite his best efforts, still laid wide awake in his bed. All night long he was engulfed in thought of his own past, his own childhood. Of all the times he reached out for his parents’ souls, but nobody came… He didn’t remember his faces. Neither Toriel her’s…

This thought was interrupted by the very Queen slowly opening the door and wading her way onto the bed, besides Asgore. She said not a word, but the moment she sat besides her King, the façade of strength and composure collapsed, her lips quivered into a frown and the beads turned into streams of tears… He saw in her a scared child, an innocent frightened animal. For the first time in years, she wept like she’d done on that night her father died.

Though she didn’t remember his face, she would keep her promise.


End file.
